


Repute

by Harukami



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoisite wants the respect the other generals have, and he wants the love he's dreamed of. Of course, he's never been one to go about things in a straightforward way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repute

They call him a prodigy; plenty of young men are in the army, even those barely out of boyhood, but he's the youngest of those to rise to the rank of general. A thin-faced fighter, he's less inclined to fight directly and more likely to wait for his enemies to dismiss him -- too young, too pretty, too slender, too lacking in muscle -- then strike from behind. He's not the most honorable soldier, he knows, but believes his results speak for themselves. 

Still, people speak, and not the way he'd like. The queen might be impressed with him but (everyone says) it's the will of her head general which brought him to his rank. He'd used his wiles there as well, people say. He's made no secret of how he fancies the leader of the queen's troops, so of course they put any achievement he gets down to that. The cherry blossom of the battlefield, they call him mockingly; beautiful and delicate, though only for the spring. He won't be young forever, and then his looks will get him nothing and his reputation as a prodigy will be irrelevant. 

He's underestimated, under-respected, and it eats at him. They aren't wrong about his _interest_ in the head general, of course, but it's only interest, and has gone nowhere; the leader is interested in the queen and no other. They aren't wrong that he's used his looks, but they never talk about how he uses his brain. 

It's the stupidest thing, he thinks often; nobody becomes a soldier if their _only_ interest is in love. Respect, though, to shut up those laughing voices -- the other generals, even the queen--

When the Silver Millennium ends, everyone on the battlefield is torn out of their old selves. The darkness claims those who have obeyed it, and does not let go until the last remnants of Queen Serenity's influence finally fades, many centuries later. 

***

When the darkness spits them back out, what's left is pared down to their essence; not the lives they lived as a whole, but what was important to them, what they were passionate about, what they hated. The rest is still there, but in shadow compared to these bright points to hang their identities on. Zoisite realizes this almost at once when he wakes with feelings burning in his chest: love and resentment and the desire to be recognized. The power in his beauty and in his mind. 

It's a confusing moment. Although they slept through the changes, being reborn brings with it the information of this age. What's important to people. What people love. What people hate. The darkness fed it to them, he's sure, so they could use it. Blend in and manipulate. It's what he's best at, he thinks, unlike some of the others.

When they go and present themselves to Queen Beryl he keeps an eye out to try to determine what the others feel, what their starting points of 'identity' are. Just because they're all of the Dark Kingdom doesn't mean they're on the same side. They could be; if they want to work together, then certainly, they'll be unstoppable. But Zoisite remembers the derision and wonders how much of that is crystallized into the now. Wonders how many backs he'll need to make turn from him. 

Kunzite seems withdrawn, distracted; he watches Zoisite across the crowd in a way that makes his heart leap in his chest. Maybe, he thinks, maybe. He can't read Kunzite's tone as he announces himself to Beryl. The only thing he discusses is his desire to lead and obey.

Jadeite is easy. Jadeite talks about the idiotic masses, about their numbness. Jadeite, Zoisite thinks, is weak himself to mob thinking. The information about the age was given to them to use, but Zoisite thinks that Jadeite has bought into it. If Zoisite needs to, he can use that against him.

Nephrite is even easier. Where Jadeite's scorn is for the humans as a society, Nephrite's scorn is for everyone around them. He can barely muster a polite tone when talking to Beryl. He talks not of humans but of the stars, of how he can use prophecy to determine their actions. Nephrite, then, is isolated. He wants nothing of anyone but the isolation of space. Whether that's out of fear or desire, Zoisite doesn't know and doesn't care.

He presents himself as neutrally as he can. He wishes nothing more than to be of service (he says). However he can help, he will. He's always had a tactical mind, and so he hesitates to declare any tactics until he's studied the situation, but the one thing she can count on his loyalty. Whatever she needs of him, he will do. That's how he puts it.

Beryl greets them, warns them that they will all be given duties, and the failure to meet them is death. But she does so with a fond tone that belies her threat. She missed them, Zoisite thinks, and missed them equally, no one more than any others. He's sure that while her patience isn't infinite, it's nowhere near thin. They'll get the chance to establish themselves, at least. 

Behind him, the masses of monsters whisper to each other. They're picking generals to back, ideologies to follow, and, perhaps, deriding them as well.

***

Zoisite doesn't wait. He doesn't _want_ to wait for things to fall into place; he doesn't want to miss his chance. Beryl never loved Kunzite, and it was never returned; what they had was convenience and politics. He has to think of it that way, but doesn't think he's wrong. When the assembly breaks, he follows Kunzite back to his new quarters, and bides his time only for a few minutes to cover that up, and then knocks.

"Come in."

He enters; Kunzite turns with surprise in his eyes that changes quickly to a sort of amused expectation. "So you came."

"I came," Zoisite agrees. "Doesn't that mean you were expecting me?"

"Perhaps I was." Kunzite sits in the twisted mass of soft stone that is his new armchair; Zoisite approaches to stand before him. "You aren't surprised by that either."

"I'm not. I saw the way you were looking at me."

"Don't read anything into it," Kunzite warns him.

Zoisite laughs behind a hand. "Me? Read anything into it? No. I'm here to offer something to you."

"And what is that?"

"Myself," Zoisite says. He spreads his arms.

Kunzite looks him over, brows raised, taken aback. "That's blunt. Do you think that's much of an offer?"

Zoisite flips his hair. "I'm only the most beautiful person in the Dark Kingdom," he says, more a joke than an answer, as he puts his thoughts in order as carefully as he can. "No, Kunzite-sama, I don't think you know what I'm offering."

"Yourself, you said."

"All of my feelings. All of my love."

Kunzite's lip draws up in a confused smirk. "Love? I thought you were going to offer me something with meaning."

"My lord," Zoisite says, "love is the most powerful force in the universe. You and I both know that, do we not? We're living proof."

"Are we?"

Zoisite gestures around them, sharp, sudden. "What do you think happened to us? Queen Serenity's love for her daughter overcame us all on the brink of victory. It overwrote space and time and the continuous flow of reality, my lord."

"I'd imagine Queen Serenity is something of an exception. The Silver Crystal--"

"She is not," Zoisite says. "If you're saying that, then you think that she, as a person, is stronger than the entire Dark Kingdom, than Queen Beryl, than even our great dark ruler herself. If that were the case, than we'd not have been on the verge of victory ourselves."

Kunzite frowns. "Using that power would be the death of her. She knew that, so it was a last resort."

"Yes, perhaps, but why then would she use it too late to save her kingdom? It was love, the desire to save her daughter," Zoisite says. "You heard all Serenity's soldiers talk about it too. The power of love, beauty, all the rest."

At that, Kunzite's eyes close. It's hard to remember that far into the past with any clarity, Zoisite finds. For Kunzite as well, he supposes. "...They did."

"You know I'm in love with you," Zoisite says. "But you never accepted my feelings. If I may be so daring, my lord, do you regret that?" It's not even daring. He saw how Kunzite was watching him. 

Kunzite doesn't answer, and after a moment, Zoisite pushes on. "So let me love you," he wheedles. "Accept my love, Kunzite-sama. Accept all the power I can bring you through my genuine adoration for you. And love me in return."

"I... am not sure I--"

"You can! Or you wouldn't regret it," Zoisite says. "Take me on dates. Hold me. Kiss me. Whisper sweet and tender things to me. Don't hold yourself back, but do the things you want to do as you want them."

Finally, Kunzite moves again. He reaches an arm out for Zoisite, meeting his eyes, and Zoisite feels something inside him catch fire. He flings himself against Kunzite's chest, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe from the intensity of the feeling, inhales Kunzite's scent, wraps his arms around Kunzite and holds on.

"You're very young," Kunzite says. "A youth--" and then correcting himself with the knowledge of the modern time, "--a teenager like you will have different passions, different desires than me. Things may be difficult."

"Let them be difficult! I don't care if it's different, just love me," Zoisite says into Kunzite's neck. "We'll work through it and become stronger than the rest."

"And serve Queen Beryl with this powers of ours."

"Oh, yes, of course," Zoisite says.

Kunzite pushes him back a little, and that feeling freezes briefly as he thinks that he overplayed his hand, gave away how little he cares about Queen Beryl -- but it's only to get the room to kiss him.

All worries, at least for the moment, vanish

***

It's some hours later that he heads to his new quarters for the first time; he's sure he's a mess, he's sure his feelings are showing on his skin, in the tangles of his hair. He passes Nephrite on the way who, sure enough, snickers.

"What is it, Nephrite?" he asks without turning.

"So you're making your move on him already. The cherry blossom of the battlefield, was it?" Nephrite laughs again. "It won't benefit you any. You'd do well to focus on your work instead, Zoisite."

He whirls, ready to confront Nephrite -- but the other general has already teleported away, leaving him to stare angrily in the spot he'd been as the afterimage fades. His fists are clenched so hard his nails press into his palms. Furious, _furious_ that his love has again been turned into an object of scorn so soon after it has finally been realized.

Zoisite forces himself to calm down, to breathe deeply. No matter, he thinks.

He'll just make sure to find a way to throw those words back into Nephrite's face someday.


End file.
